Enlightenment
by Nox2148
Summary: It has been ten years since the collapse of the Soviet Union and an uneasy calm has spread over the world stage. All of that changes on January 13, 2001, shattering the facade of peace and throwing the globe off of its already unsteady equilibrium. This is the untold story of how L was able to prevent the outbreak of World War III.


**Story Summary: This is the untold story of how L was able to prevent the outbreak of World War III. After an airplane carrying over two-hundred American citizens is shot down near the outskirts of the Russian town Elektrostal, the tension that lay dormant between Russia and the U.S. ever since the end of the Cold War returns with a fury. With events unfolding as rapidly as they are, L needs to find a way to stop the escalating situation as quickly as possible before the two countries and their allies declare war.**

**The vast majority of the characters in this story are from my own imagination. My goal for this story is twofold: to write as great of a story as I possibly can, and to explore and develop both the character of L, and L's relationship with this story's other main protagonist, E. LxOC.**

**This story is rated T for violence, though I may change it to M if most people think it's more fitting.**

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Just a quick but IMPORTANT message—I had to tweak the timeline a little bit. **_**L: Change the WorLd**_** states that L prevented World War III when he was only 8, but to make this story a little more believable, L is now 22 (and **_**probably**_** more emotionally mature than when he was a kid).**

**More importantly, I hope this first chapter doesn't come off as insensitive in light of recent events. I truly apologize if it does—it is **_**never**_** my intention to hurt anyone.**

**So, without further ado, here it is! Please review and provide feedback! All your comments are much appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note in any way, shape, or form. All of the credit goes to Takeshi Obata and Tsugumi Ohba.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**January 13, 2001  
2:36 A.M. MSK**

"Attention ladies and gentlemen, we will be starting our descent to Domodedovo International Airport in Moscow, Russia, soon. Please ensure that your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins…"

Sighing, Craig Harris, an unassuming middle-aged man with light brown hair and a balding spot on top of his head that he liked to hide, turned off his laptop and put it in his briefcase, carefully placing it under his chair. He looked at his watch, an old, beaten-up Citizen that his wife had given him for their 10-year-anniversary thirteen years ago. The sad object lying on his wrist had so many scratches and cuts that he doubted he could count them all, and his wife had told him numerous times to just throw it away so she could buy him a new one. Craig rejected her every time though, refusing to part with the watch that held an embarrassingly high amount of sentimental value to him.

He smiled as he thought of his wife. They had met thirty-five years ago on a crowded, hot Manhattan subway. She was beautiful, her chestnut hair flowing down to the middle of her back. They had exchanged glances throughout the whole subway ride, and his heart gave a little jump when he saw her get up to exit the train. Mustering up all the courage in his body, Craig walked up to her with a nervous smile on his face. "Hi," he had stuttered nervously. "I'm Craig."

She smiled then, and Craig's breath caught in his throat. "Hi," she replied warmly. "I'm Lisa." Two years after their fateful subway ride, Craig and Lisa got married in Central Park, surrounded by adoring family members and laughing children. Not too many years later, Lisa gave birth to their only child, a girl they named Helen. Suddenly, Craig's world no longer revolved around one girl, but two. Helen was his pride and joy; she never ceased to amaze him, from the time she first learned to walk to when she graduated from Cornell University with a bachelor's degree in economics.

Craig mentally scoffed at himself. Not even six hours after he had said his goodbye, here he was, thinking about them like he would never see his wife and daughter again. He looked out of the window he was seated next to, but could see nothing but inky darkness. He hated taking night flights, but his boss had only told him yesterday that he needed to negotiate a deal with their partner-company based in Moscow. The U.S. Airways flight he was currently on was the only one available, and so he had spent the night packing his bags in a frenzied hurry.

Craig worked at a small tech company in New York City with his co-worker and long-time friend, Nathan Hughes. Nathan was … odd, to say the least. His personality quirks made most people slightly wary of him, but Craig knew that Nathan was completely harmless and rather charming if he wanted to be. They usually hung out on Friday nights along with their other college friends, chatting the night away like old grandmas in some hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that, for some reason, still remained open at obscene hours of the night. Weekends though, weekends were strictly reserved for his family.

He smiled slightly and, making himself comfortable in his seat, closed his eyes and contented himself to musings and thoughts of home.

Three rows behind Craig and five seats to his left sat Jennifer Hamilton whose nose was currently buried in a book. Her long shiny blonde hair fell in front of her eyes, and she impatiently pushed it back. Jennifer was on a trip to visit her grandmother, a tiny old lady with clear blue eyes, a temper that could make any grown man quake in his shoes, and a soul that was sweet and gentle. This would probably be the last time Jennifer would be able to see her grandma for a very long time because Jennifer had just finished medical school and would soon begin her residency. With so much to do, she doubted that she would be able to find the time in her schedule to visit the woman that had taught her so much.

You see, Jennifer's parents were very busy people with very busy lives, and they barely found the time to take care of their daughter, let alone spend time with her. Her grandma, on the other hand, took Jennifer to school every day when she was young, held her hand as they crossed the icy roads in the winter, cooked her breakfast and tucked her into bed, scolded her whenever she did anything wrong, taught her the value of dedication and also compassion, and shaped Jennifer into the young woman she was today. Her grandma was the closest thing to a mother Jennifer ever had, and she cared for her more deeply than anyone else.

But when Jennifer's family in America urged her to come live with them, her parents forced her to leave Russia and her grandma, subsequently thrusting the then 14-year-old girl into a very unfamiliar and very intimidating environment. Years had gone by and now Jennifer was 26-years-old and an American citizen, but she never forgot her roots.

Jennifer carefully tabbed her page and gently closed her book. She couldn't wait to see her grandma again. Just last night, her grandmother had called and talked extensively about how excited she was to see her little _zvezda_ again. She had organized a small, intimate welcoming party full of extended family and close friends, all eager to see how much Jennifer had grown since the last time they saw her. There would be heaps of traditional Russian food, but Jennifer was most looking forward to her aunt's _kotleta_. Their aroma always reminded her of cherished memories, and their tantalizing taste was enough to make her mouth water already.

Her stomach growled rather loudly, and she ducked her head in embarrassment. Her eyes flitted around nervously and, with a rather sheepish smile, winked at the little boy who was staring at her from the small space between the seats in front of her. The boy gave her a smile that revealed he was missing his left canine, before he turned around and started to bully his younger brother.

"Alex, stop!" shouted the younger boy, a scowl on his chubby face. "Mom," he whined, "Alex is being mean to me again!"

The older brother who must've been Alex swelled up indignantly. "I'm not!" he said loudly, glaring menacingly at the boy who dared to tell on him. "He's lying, Mom! Eric always lies!"

"Boys, stop it," said the woman, Jane Chapman-Morrison, sitting next to the two children. "Alex, I've already told you not to bully your brother. If you don't stop, you're not going to be allowed to watch the television for a whole week when we get home."

"But I don't even get to watch TV from Mondays to Fridays," he sputtered. "You can't do that to me," he moaned miserably.

"I can and I will," his mother said sternly.

When both of her children finally quieted down, she exhaled deeply and felt herself relax. She loved her children, she really did, but sometimes they would just bicker nonstop and it took every ounce of her patience to remain calm. She was always the one to settle arguments because her husband, who was sitting beside her, never had it in him to break up their sons' arguments—he found them much too amusing and endearing to listen to.

Their family was on a rather much-needed vacation. Her husband, Austin Morrison, had begged her for a break from his boring and mundane 9-to-5 job, talking incessantly about his need to escape the office. He called his coworkers "emotionless robots" and his boss "a pissy bastard who likes to control anything and everything." "I'm not made for this job!" he complained to his wife last year. "I need some spontaneity in my life, I need something exciting and new."

It took much convincing on her husband's part, but she finally agreed to take a vacation in Russia, a country so rich in history that she found herself tapping her foot in nervous and excited anticipation. "Do you think they'll have fun?" she whispered to her husband, nodding her head in their children's direction.

"The boys? Of course they will. They can learn all about Russian culture and art and music! They'll love it," he said enthusiastically. "You know I was thinking, if we end up really liking Russia, maybe we could buy a vacation house here? Wouldn't it be nice?"

Jane shook her head in exasperation. "You're always coming up with crazy ideas, Austin. We don't have the—"

But Jane never got to finish her sentence. The Morrison family never got the chance to visit Saint Basil's Cathedral or the Red Square like they planned to. Jennifer Hamilton never got to see her grandmother, who was waiting anxiously at the airport for her. Craig Harris never got to the chance to begin his negotiations with the partner-company, to hug his daughter again, or to hear his wife's beautiful laugh one last time.

Because at 2:37 A.M., the plane, which was flying over the little Russian town of Elektrostal, lit up the sky in a ball of scorchingly hot fire, and rained upon the ground scraps of burning metal, broken bodies, and untold stories. The Morrison's story, Jennifer's story, Craig's story, Anna's story, Dan's story, Elizabeth's story, Tom's, Max's, Dean's, Shawn's, Miriam's, Olivia's…

Their stories, their lives, ended too abruptly to write a proper conclusion that they deserved. All two-hundred fifty-nine passengers aboard the U.S. Airways flight died that day, their lives going up in the thick, grey, suffocating smoke that rose up in a plume over the outskirts of Elektrostal.

The victims of that flight would soon become martyrs in their home country. Across America, their names would be spoken in quivering voices; their faces would be shown in every major news organization; their sad, unfinished story would be repeated thousands upon thousands of times until every single person in American knew who they were.

Their deaths, many vowed with conviction, would be avenged.

* * *

_Zvezda- star  
kotleta- meatballs_


End file.
